


D is for.... Of Course It Is.

by OtakuElf



Series: YADAA (Yet Another Dragon Age Alphabet) [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Gift Giving, NaNoWriMo, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuElf/pseuds/OtakuElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn is inspired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D is for.... Of Course It Is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Lunamoth116 for beta-ing!
> 
> This work refers to this story: http://archiveofourown.org/works/514598/chapters/908023

“D is for …” Florian Phineas Horatio Aldebrant, Esquire, a Senior Enchanter in Kinloch Hold, paused a moment, caught himself just before scratching his nose with the pen nib - wouldn’t do to be messy, now would it - and pondered what should come next. He prefered “Finn” to the more odious nickname of “Flora”. And his full name was not often used except for formal wear. Or by his parents. He received a letter from his mother each week. Finn was not sure if either his mother or his father understood his research, or really anything that he wrote to them. Still, they were enormously supportive, and Finn enjoyed reading their missives.

Finn had set up shop in the Circle library. As usual, it was cold - the ancient Avaar tower was stone from top to bottom and remained chilly even in the summer - and he was wearing the hat his mother had knit for him to keep body heat from escaping. At this time of night there was rarely anyone else in here, except for the random templar patrolling the hallways. He’d commandeered a stout wooden table in the back, spread out his goods, and was proceeding to be creative. A had been easy. _Arlathan_ , of course. Most interesting. B for Blight. C for Cailan of Ferelden. The Golden King. Finn had quite enjoyed the illustrations on that one, as the current king, Alistair Theirin, had sent Cailan’s entire panoply of armor with sword and shield for Finn to copy for the artwork. Most impressive.

Finn had thought that, just perhaps, he should do Calenhad for C. He was uncertain as to whether Anders would find an illustration of the lake pleasantly reminiscent or not. The mage had even begun sketches of a blond-haired head in the water with templars standing on the dock in consternation. Unfortunately he had realized that Lake should probably be under “L”, and the figures would have to be so small as to be unnoticeable. Or unrecognizable, to say the least.

And really? Calenhad himself would be far less engaging than an in-joke. Chuckling, Finn did admit that he was amusing. Now, back to the task.

Which was creating a gift to send to Anders. Finn had been inspired. It was amazing, a miracle, that Anders was alive at all. And even more wondrous was the fact that Anders, of all people, had married. Not just married either, and not just to anyone. But to the Champion of Kirkwall! Granted, they were no longer _in_ Kirkwall of course. What with Anders having blown up the Chantry and all. And being on the run from templars, Seekers, and all manner of municipal authority from just about every country in Thedas.

Finn had heard that a goodly number of mages wished to perform acts of grievous bodily harm on Anders as well. And not just former lovers. The escapee had been the subject of much discussion in Kinloch Hold. Finn was just as happy to let bygones be bygones. After all, Anders had been the reason that the odious calisthenics out in the Circle Tower yard had been canceled. Granted that was because Anders had escaped that one particular time by jumping in the lake and swimming away. The templars had, of course, been unable to follow him because they were clad in full suits of plate armor. He, Anders, had been caught that time and brought back. It had not stopped the man from continuing his wild campaign to remain “free”. Or what Anders called free. 

Finn preferred to be free from the outdoors. Free to use the Tower library whenever he wished. Free to study, to have his meals provided for him, to have his room cleaned, and to be able to travel, under guard of course for his own protection, for his researches. That was freedom to Finn’s mind. Not camping by the muddy side of a road in the snow or cold, waiting to be recaptured. Not swilling bad ale in a brothel or tavern, and trying to chew whatever meat had found its way into the local stew.

In any case, nobody knew where Anders was. Finn did have his ways of getting something to the apostate. Which was why he had conceived the notion of creating an abecedarian. Ostensively for Anders’s offspring. After all, Anders had married a mage. Their child would undoubtedly be born with enchantment in his or her blood. Probably healing, from what Finn remembered of Anders and had heard of the Champion. It would be good to get the child’s training started right away.

Hence the abecedarian. Useful and decorative, as his mother always said. Now, what for D? He already had E. Eluvian, of course! Not that Anders or his bride would have ever heard of one, but it was Finn’s field of experience, and how exciting to be able to share his firsthand sketches with someone who might find them interesting. 

D, though, had proven difficult. Demons. That would work. Anyone who had lived through Uldred’s attempt to take over the Circle would know what a demon looked like. Or rather, what the _demons_ look like. Finn could do anatomical drawings of the major types, standing by an average-sized human mage for scale. Must make a list to start though, and be thorough. With the whole issue of fade rifts there had been several new types classified. Hunger, rage, sloth, terror, despair, pride, desire…oh. Possibly not a good idea for a child’s book. Finn recalled one of the desire demons from the blood mage incursion. She had offered Finn access to all the wisdom of ancient Arlathan. Of course Finn had turned her down. He was fairly certain that she would not be able to follow through on her offer to begin with. Finn also enjoyed the chase too much to give it up. The search, and research for each spare bit of knowledge left from ancient times. To have it all handed to him, perhaps on a lyrium platter, would be just too easy. No provenance either, to prove from whence the information came. Easy enough to say, “The ancient _Elvhenar_ sacrificed maidens to a round of cheese, much like the Orlesians on a full moon.” The task was to prove it.

Finn laughed at his little joke. So. Demons were out because drawing a naked desire demon for a children’s book was just not something he wanted to be blamed for. Or have peer-reviewed.

Beside that, he supposed that children would not be interested in demons, would they? He had not been. More “interesting” stories like _Dane and the Werewolf_ were told in the apprentice dormitories of an evening. Was that what youngsters read? Finn had been more enthralled by texts of ancient history. Finn had never been much of one for fiction, so _Rose of Orlais_ was right out. Oh. Again, not suitable, he theorized, for children.

Hum. Something timely. It was the Dragon Age. Dragons were exciting. Well, Finn said to himself that dragons were a little too exciting for him. He’d fought them in the Dragonbone Wastes with the Hero of Ferelden, and although the samples of skin, blood, bile, and bone he’d brought back for study had kept him occupied for months, the actual being around the dragons had been horrifying and messy. And painful. They seemed to breed like rats, which made him wonder why they were so scarce. Even the little dragonlings were nasty. Then there were the drakes. The things came in all sizes. One of them, a high dragon, had torched his hat.

Pulling the aforementioned hat from his head - he smoothed his hair quickly after a look around to see if anyone was about to notice - Finn took a sniff at its soft, orange worsted. Even after numerous washings, he could still smell the scorched wool. With a growl, the mage pulled the knit cap back onto his head, settled it, and took up the pen again.

Dragons. Not the archdemon, though. Best to save that for when the child was older. And no darkspawn. He had decided on that from the beginning. Darkspawn could not truly be conveyed in an illustration. Their smell had to be experienced to actually understand how loathsome they were. In addition to that, presumably a Grey Warden’s child would know a good deal about darkspawn already. So. Dragons. A high dragon, sharp scaled and purple with spikes jutting from the head and along the spine. Weblike wings raised in defiance. Finn’s skilled fingers began to rough out a drawing with a stick of charcoal instead of the pen. 

Dragons - large, overpowering, smelling of snake and flame. Bones for making into swords and armor. Skin to make strong leather, impervious to cuts or weather. Once the mage got the idea down for an attacking dragon, born from his memory of that long-ago day in the Dragonbone Wastes, he continued with the pen and black ink for an outline. Later he would fill in with the colorfast inks created by Owain and the other Tranquil. Below the vast maw of the creature, staff raised in defiance, he put a small, well-robed mage wearing a knit cap.

Yes. That should do. On a separate sheet of scrap he parsed out a description of the dragon he had seen, where the beasts tended to dwell, and why the age was named for them. Crossing out overly wordy description, Finn worked on his page until his hands creaked in the cold from their hold on the pen. Stretching, he placed the work on a high shelf to dry before gathering his materials.

Tomorrow? E for _Eluvian_


End file.
